Nights came as uneventful as they departed, all dismissing suitor after suitor; even those who presumed a result, left in disappointment. She had been raised to be discreet and careful in action, causing her to habitually adhere to the proper decision. She never resented this part of her persona, though commonly wondered how it would feel to unleash, perhaps just once, a decadent thought into action.
She had no precursor for that night, because what took place could have only happened in time of utter inexpectations. We had spoken in numerous occasions, though more often than not simple hellos and goodbyes composed our interactions. This time, was no different. She came into the venue, flirted with numerous suitors, from time to time waving at me from afar. See, I worked the bar, and had gotten to know her through her actions on the dance floor, and slow seductive walks towards the bar to purchase emotional suppressants: liquor.
I would watch her, at times in jealousy, because work kept me from such sight, from doing what other suitors tried but failed, even if I too, failed. There wasn’t any merit for failing to try, at least less than there was for trying and failing. That night she stayed behind with a new suitor, the last couple remaining. She laughed, he touched her hands, her knee, from time to time asking me to come bring another round of cocktails.
He had gotten beyond the point all others had failed. I was terribly shocked, almost in disbelief that someone was to do what I had dreamed of doing to her. That she would finally allow someone to come that close. He was handsome, and seemingly sneaky as his cocktails were left untouched side by side her finished glasses. He was playing a game, perhaps his looks had him playing the upper hand. The last round of drinks wasn’t called by him, rather her, she got up, smiled at me and from afar calmly said, “bring me what I want”. I did as requested, placing the drinks closer to her, as I refused to acknowledge my newly created foe.
It began there, instead of the initial approach being made by him, it was she who sat on his lap, pushed his shoulders against the chair, and began kissing him. By this time I was cleaning the counter top, flickering the lights hoping to stop their progress. My attempts where futile. I might as well have been part of the décor. I even dropped a bar stool from atop the counter, yet nothing.
The jealousy impeded me from looking at them. All I was able to hear was heavy breathing accompanied by his nagging voice asking her to remove her panties. I had had enough, there wasn’t a reason for them to remain behind while I prepared for closing. After a few minutes of more light flickering, and dropping objects on the floor, they got the idea that I wasn’t at all pleased. As they were about to get up, I stared back at them and caught a look of her. He had managed to remove her underwear, which he was sliding into his right pocked.
I saw her, all of her, whether I intended to or not, I had seen her at her most vulnerable. Now more than at any other moment in time, I wished I had not seen a thing. I immediately recognized that I would be haunted until I lost my ability to recollect the past. She was sitting on his lap when suddenly her right leg came up, across, over his legs, and back down to the floor. The light made her glisten, revealing that her joys went beyond my hopes. It was difficult to prevent my reaction; I, in fact, welcomed it. For a few moments I ignored where I was, with whom she was, and that she wasn’t mine to enjoy.
Fully groomed as if there was some sort of gala which awarded prices to the most delightful. She contained hidden away from the pubic a sight of sheer delirium. The colour, the shape, the manner in which it split, then met together again, giving view to buttocks that force sin out of angels… I saw it all. Even the time she spent adjusting her dress to properly cover her lower body, I spent hoping that her scent would reach me to apeace me. I didn’t beg, I sold my soul to the devil to turn him into me.
Through the many visions in my mind, there was time to reason that I had not witnessed someone else’s enjoyment, he remained fully clothed; his solider tucked away as it should have been. This was no war for him to fight. Though his shirt was unbuttoned, in disarray, and lipstick traces through his face, neck and shirt, I somehow felt relieved that she hadn’t fully committed in my presence. She had become risqué, somehow managed to lose all morality… I stood there admiring what wasn’t meant to be mine, quietly grieving for an affection given to someone else.
As I walked to open the door, I was glad to expel him from my sight, but conversely sad to have her leave with him. To have seen her at her most alluring, yet not get to feel the woman she is. From behind me the sound of her high heels clicked and clacked. Her laughter sickened me; it all meant that she was once and for all going to resume what she’d found so difficult many times before.
They walk out at the same time. Him I ignored, but her, I had to speak to let her know my aches. I told her that I had seen what should be mine, but now another takes. She smiled, bit her lower lip, and walked out staring back as if struggling with her decision to leave. Soon after turning the sing that reads “open” to “close”, a knock reached my ears. Not my boss, not now. Just not what I need. I lifted my head to a welcome sight. There she stood, her high heels on her hands, her panties in the other. Looking straight at me, smiling, asking what it was that I had seen that was mine, but now another’s.
I unlocked the door, she pushed it open, simultaneously tossing the contents held in her hand to the sides. I hadn’t a second to respond to her aggression. Before I reacted my back was against the bar counter, she was unbuckling my belt, unbuttoning my slacks. There was little need for her to lure a reaction from me, my reaction was still as fresh as it was upon seeing what she held in secret. I could feel her dragging my slacks down, while digging her nails into my thighs. The intensity of the pain was opaqued by the sheer desire of being with her. She didn’t just scratch, she clawed down my ankles. Every bit of which increased my need to be with her.
As my pants reached my ankles, her eyes caught mine, and deep I went. She was slow but deliberate in the initial motion. Her lips were moist; she got me moist; I felt the tip lose sight of the outside as she pushed in deep, covering the body with a few slight twists of her head. I got lost in her, her lips almost touching the skin on the base. She reached behind me, and pulled me forward as if wanting to devour me. She pulled out quickly, and forcefully pushed it. I couldn’t concentrate on anything, not her eyes starting up at me, the sight of me being swallowed by her mouth, not her lips contouring around me, not the glistening of my manhood as it entered, and exited out of her mouth. I could see the veins in him wanted to explode in excitement. I could see her tongue as it took shape on the bottom of me, I could see her difficulty to breath when it was all in.
She was violent in desire, thrusting me into her without compassion or fear, fully expecting that I’d climax, a thing I so longed. The thrusts were intoxicating, not only did I feel her lips, teeth, and tongue, but the warmth of her throat accepting me as her whim; devouring me as a hungry meal after days of fasting. I couldn’t help it but to grab both fists full of hair to feel the motion of her head back and forth as she slobbered me with saliva. She pull it out from her mouth just to smile at me, quickly swallowing me to completeness.
Carrying a blissful conversation on her own… sounds that weakened me, that made my knees babble in response. I wondered if my intoxication of her actions, too had the same grand effect on her. It was irresistible, to see her tongue mold to my shape, to witness how it would trace the entire body, following the lines on the head as if roads to salvation. There was no fight I could have waged. I climaxed like a teenage boy in his first encounter. But she wasn’t about to let me control the result. When she felt her mouth soak with sings of my delirium, she slowed down, continued to swallow me slowly, pushing all the way in, pushing all the way out as if trying to clean me of all signs of her action. Suddenly, she pushed me in. I moaned, didn’t know how to react but to tell her that I wanted her to fulfill my nights of wanting her. I wanted to do more than feel her mouth, I wanted to feel her tightly wrapped around me, squeezing me, asking me if I had ever felt this much desire.
She continued to maneuver me, in and out, but this time something was different. She had purposely allowed me to spill onto her lower lip, her chin, and me. The moisture compounding with each slow thrust into her mouth… weakening. The sight of her eyes looking up at me, her lips, chin soaked in lust. She stood up slowly, dropped her dress onto the floor, stood there, eye to eye with me, bitting her lips, breathing heavy. She kissed me, I could taste me in her lips, in her tongue, the taste of us making me want her more…
She was a master at the task. Too good to be coming from such a wholesome person. But at last she had released that one thought of decadence into action. She become a woman in bliss, a woman in a night of debauchery.